


Fireside

by boomturkey



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Afterlife, Angst, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 11:19:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17424899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boomturkey/pseuds/boomturkey
Summary: After his last encounter with Agent Ross John wakes up in a strange place. He finds he has the chance to have a much needed conversation with the man who gave him a second chance at life.





	Fireside

**Author's Note:**

> This is the most canon complaint you're ever going to see me in this fandom ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

John gasped awake, the ghostly memories of dozens of bullets ripping holes into his chest and face fading out into nothing. He clenched his fists sitting up, pressing his hands into his face, running gloved fingers over his chest finding no wounds there. No scratches. Nothing. “What the heck just happened?” He gasped out loud. His voice made an odd echoing sound, making John look up and take in his surroundings. 

Wherever he was it was pitch dark out. He was sitting on ground that felt similar but off in some way. He realized he was seeing the scuffed dirt in front of their barn on Beecher’s Hope. Only there weren’t no barn. And instead of the fences or dry grass around him, only blackness was visible around his little patch of dirt. Looking up John was horrified to see neither moon nor stars in the sky, just an endless expanse of nothingness. 

He felt his breathing coming fast, needing to stave off panic, he stood shouting “Abigail? Jack?” He stepped to edge of his dirt circle only to watch it expand forward. As he moved in circles, the only thing he could see was his little patch of dirt, always shifting to keep him in the center “Abigail?” He shouted more desperately this time. Where was his family? Had they gotten away? 

The last thing he could remember was the shootout with Ross and his men. He remembered sending them away on horseback. Stepping out into the light, getting only a few shots off before bullets buried their way into his flesh, ripping holes. “Jack!” John yelled, voice going hoarse. His heart was thundering in his chest, the darkness was choking him, the weight of what had happened hitting him like a ton of bricks “Am I dead?” He whispered, falling to his knees. He stared at his hands feeling, without seeing, the darkness moving in to smother him, choke the life out of him. The un-life out of him. What did it matter? He weren’t anything anyways. Not anymore. 

A sharp bark sounded from not too far off, the first sound John had heard since waking in this place, that weren’t his own voice. John looked up scanning the horizon on all sides. Another bark, but he couldn’t see who...

Rufus, that damn dog of Jacks stepped out of the shadows, enlarging his circle of dirt and grass, wagging his tail in excitement. “Rufus?” He rasped in disbelief as the dog wiggled his way up to John, licking at his face. John let out a hysterical laugh, scratching at Rufus’ neck before bending down and pressing a kiss to Rufus’ muzzle. The dog paid him back with a happy lick, tail still wagging. John circled his arms around Rufus who accepted the hug like a good boy, pressing his face into the dogs fur. 

“Never thought I’d be so happy to see you boy” John mumbled into his fur. Rufus just woofed at him softly, standing up and padding to the edge of the darkness and then staring at John. He blinked at the dog “You want me to follow you boy?” He asked incredulously. Rufus just wagged his tail and started walking, a narrow lit path materializing under his feet as he walked forward. 

John scrambled up to his feet and followed after Rufus, making sure to keep on the trail the dog was making. Looking back he could see the circle of earth he’d been standing in had completely vanished, consumed by the dark. The path behind him seemed to disappear as he moved forward too. “Guess we got no way but forward, huh boy?” John called at Rufus. He’d never understood people’s need to talk to dogs and horses as if they could respond. Jack did it all the time, talking to Rufus like he was a person. Arthur used to do it too, treating his horses and that dog of his, John couldn’t remember the name anymore, better than he did most people. 

They continued walking forward for what felt like an eternity, but John had no way of knowing what time it was or how far they’d come. He wasn’t tired. Couldn’t feel any sweat. He wasn’t warm and he wasn’t cold. He just was. He didn’t think he was really even breathing right now either. He tried counting his steps but found even that impossible, as soon as he’d count beyond ten his mind would be distracted by the faces of Abigail and Jack. Of Uncle laying on the ground bloody, the old coward finally proving his mettle and staying with him till the last. 

Rufus made another woofing sound, making John look up. In the distance, like a rising sun cresting over the horizon he could just barely make out the light of a fire, glowing in the dark. Breath caught in his throat, John picked up the pace, running after Rufus towards the light. As they got closer he could see a shadowed figure sitting in front of the fire, hat pulled low. Even after all of these years, John knew that silhouette, maybe even better than his own reflection. 

When he reached the edge of the fire, the path behind him fully dissolved, stranding John here. He wasn’t winded, but at the sight of the man in front of him, he felt his breath catch in his throat. The campfire John recognized, it was set up the exact same way they always did their fires at different camps over the years. Seats enough for most of them, room enough to stand for all. It was the campfire at Horseshoe Overlook, Clemens Point, Shady Belle, and dozens of other places all at once. John didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to do, so he froze. Rufus padded towards the fire sitting at the man’s feet, next to a medium golden red dog with gentle eyes, tongue lolling out its mouth. Copper, John finally remembered. That’s the dog’s name. 

Arthur looked up from lighting his smoke and gave John a wry grin “Didn’t expect you for awhile yet John” 

John finally remembered how to arrange his lungs and throat so that he could talk “Hey Arthur” He rasped. Arthur gestured at the log beside him, wanting John to sit. Almost bonelessly, John dropped down next to Arthur and stared into the fire with him, quiet a moment. He had so many questions. Where? How? Why? He chanced a look at Arthur, who looked the same as he did before John ever picked up on the fact that he was sick. Same big and strong man. Same weathered face. It was Arthur pre-Blackwater. But maybe that wasn’t right. His eyes. They were the same they’d been when Arthur had told him to take his family and run. It was the same when he’d handed John his satchel and hat and told him goodbye. Tired. Resigned. Steadfast. Ready. 

“Arthur-” John rasped, wanting to ask a question but not knowing what, just wanting the man to speak to him. God he missed Arthur. He never realized just how much until now. Everything he had and was, was because of this man. How many times did he wish Arthur was there to rely on through the years? How many times did he want someone stronger than he was to make it all okay? How many times when he fucked up had he wondered what Arthur would say to him? Jesus. 

Arthur turned to look at him, his hat, as always pulled low, hiding some of his expression “I’m proud of you John” His mouth quirked in a little smile. John made an agonized sound in his throat, somewhere between a cry and a sob and tilted forward, burying his face in his hand, trying to stop the tears. He didn’t deserve those words. He failed. He died. He left Abigail to pick up the pieces once more. Arthur reached out a hand and placed it on John’s head, and suddenly they were 13 and 22 again. Arthur the big, reluctant older brother comforting his angry, unruly little brother. 

John’s young, unscarred face looked over at Arthur’s smoother, young man’s face “I fucked up a lot” He said anguished. 

Arthur just quirked a smile at him, looking far wiser and calmer than he ever had in his twenties, “Yeah, well, I kinda expected you might” John gave him an affronted look, scoffing, swatting Arthur in the arm to bat his hand away. Now John looked 26 but was far more sure about himself, his family and his place in the world than he had been when the gang blew up back then. “But you did do some good too” Arthur told him gently, the face of the man he’d been before he’d gotten sick once more. 

John snorted “Like hunting Micah, and the rest of the gang down?” He asked dryly. 

Arthur rolled his eyes, tipping his head back as if to say ‘heaven help me’ “No John, you fool. You made a home for you and your family. You helped those that needed helping. You stopped terrible things from happening to good people.” Arthur gave a derisive snort “Though maybe you coulda done one better than buying a ranch right outside Blackwater” Arthur shook his head with a grin “Thought Abigail at the very least would have had more sense” 

John scowled at him, 38 again, he was older than Arthur ever got to be. What a thought. “You know, I don’t see you for twelve years, and all you gotta say is to criticize me?” He complained without any real heat. “Thought you might have some kinder words for me if you’ve been waiting so long” John gave him a grin that was all barred teeth “Figured you’d have been lonely” 

Arthur just looked at John out of the corner of his eye, thin trail of smoke trailing upwards from his cigarette “I weren’t always alone John” Arthur told him gently. 

And suddenly across from the fire John could see a ghostly figure of Hosea sitting and reading, looking up and greeting a lost looking Arthur with a warm smile and a joke. Bessie stood and wrapped Arthur in a hug, giving him a kiss on his cheek. Hosea stood too, wrapping both of them in a hug, telling Arthur how proud he was, how strong he was. How good he did. Arthur just wept. 

The image shifted, Arthur greeting Strauss coolly, wry twist to his mouth. The image shifted again, Lenny leaning forward to tell Arthur a joke as they cheersed with whiskey bottles that were empty. The image shifted again, and John was shocked to see an angry, distraught Micah shouting at Arthur, who remained unphased before he disappeared, eaten by the blackness. 

Next Karen tripped into view, saved from falling by a grinning Sean, who told her it would all be okay, he was here now, as she sobbed into his chest wretchedly. That image flickered to Karen sitting in Sean’s lap, laughingly singing a song together with Arthur joining in, gentle grin on his face. The next was Kieran sitting next to Arthur at the fire, talking about horses, as Arthur told his own stories of horses he’d had and known over the years. 

The image flickered once more and John didn’t know how he could tell, but he knew these were more recent. They seemed clearer, less like old photographs, more like a brightly lit painting. Bill sitting across from Arthur looking angry, telling Arthur all of the ways he was better than Arthur could have ever been. The image shifted again to a younger Bill sitting calmly by the fire petting Cain, their old camp dog, telling Arthur about how much he looked up to him before it all went wrong.

The next image was Javier sitting across the fire from Arthur glaring at him, until suddenly they were fishing together, like they used to do in 1899. Then Javer was crying, a younger, happier version of himself, playing the guitar as Arthur sang along with him softly to a song John had never heard before. Before Javier left, he pulled Arthur into a fierce hug, apologizing. He knew he’d been wrong back then. He should have stayed. Arthur just pat at his head, saying that he knows, and it’s okay. 

Though John knew it was coming he wasn’t prepared for Dutch coming into view, expression so tired and defeated it stole John’s breath away. His face flicked between the old man he died as, the fearless leader they had, and the younger man Arthur would have met when he was a kid. Dutch told Arthur he’d failed, that the world was different. He said he’d failed Arthur. Tears streaking down his face. Arthur said you did, you broke my heart. Dutch wouldn’t apologize. Didn’t know how. In the moment Dutch’s ghost looked right at where John was sitting and said “I’m glad it was you John” making John’s heart stutter to a stop. 

The image faded replaced by Uncle, swaggering into view and sitting next to Arthur. He told Arthur all about the last four years. All the good and all the bad. They shared drinks, shared more stories and eventually Uncle got up to leave before turning to look at Arthur “You make sure to tell him you’re proud of him, you prickly bastard” Uncle told him with a wag of his finger. Arthur just laughed, waving Uncle onwards. 

The ghostly apparitions now gone John stared at Arthur stricken “You’ve been waiting so long” He said wretchedly, feeling tears prick his eyes. In life John never would have let Arthur see him cry. But here, it didn’t matter so much. Who was Arthur going to tell? All the people he knew were dead. Besides, they’d already said the worst things they could ever say to each other when they’d been alive. 

Arthur brushed a hand over John’s head again “And I was ready to wait far longer for you Johnny boy” He said not unkindly. 

“I fucked up so much Arthur, so much. If I could, I’d go back, and make sure, I’d want you to survive, and I’d find someplace else for me and Abigail and Jack, and-” He cut himself off, bending forward to press his face between his knees. He was dead, and he couldn’t feel nothing, yet somehow it seemed like his heart might burst in agony. 

“Oh John, never woulda figured you as some kind of happy ending sop” Arthur tsked shaking his head, smile gone soft and fond “You can’t go back and change nothing. That’s the point of this place. You just accept it, and then you move on, or you don’t and you disappear, that’s all there is” 

“Then why have you been waiting so long?” John asked him desperately, turning to grip at Arthur’s shoulders. 

Arthur tilted his head to look at him “‘Cause I wanted to make sure there was somebody here for you when you arrived. It’s awfully lonely out here, and I was worried you might get all up in your own head” To emphasize his point he poked John in the forehead after flicking his smoke into the fire. At John’s stricken look he grinned reaching down to pet Copper “And I ain’t been alone John. I got all of who I need with me” Copper titled his head up to lick at Arthur’s hand, making him grin. 

John let out a ragged breath “You know I lived my life in a lot of ways always asking myself, ‘What would Arthur do?’” 

Arthur snorted “You must not think very much of me then” He said dryly, making John squawk at him angrily, Arthur’s grin was teasing though “It’s alright John, you certainly did your best for a while to turn away a good woman, which I don’t think there’s anything quite so Arthur Morgan as that” His voice wasn’t bitter, just melancholy. 

John wiped a hand down his face “God Abigail. I’ve done some mighty terrible things to her over the years, but I think going off and dying might be my worst yet Arthur” 

Arthur gave him a sympathetic pat “Don’t go saying that John, I’m sure she’ll be much better off without you” He said it as comfort, no bite to his words as John had been used to over the years “If anyone can land on their feet after an ordeal like this, it’s Abigail Marston, you better believe that” 

John bobbed his head in a nod, looking down at his hands “What about Jack though? He’s-” John cut himself off, breathing in sharply, before looking at Arthur, agonized “He’s going into that same cycle you and I was in. He’s so smart, what if he becomes just like we were?” He asked desperately. 

Arthur looked into the fire, expression sad “He might, and it will be awfully painful for him continuing forward, but maybe, just maybe he can learn from our mistakes. You said it yourself, he’s a smart kid. He deserves a better life than the one we lived” John ducked his head, nodding not knowing what else to say.

After awhile, both of them staring into the fire quietly “You deserved more Arthur” John rasped at him.  

Arthur gave him a sad little smile, shaking his head “I got the exact end I deserved John” 

John stood up, balling his fists angry “That’s a goddamn lie! You and everyone who ever knew you knows it!” He was shouting. Arthur just blinked up at him in surprise. “You know, I spent a year traveling around meeting people you mentioned in your journal, and every single one of them credits you with their lives, their success, their happiness” He whirled on Arthur, pointing an accusing finger in his face “You touched so many lives Arthur, I know you don’t think you’ve repented for what you need to, but without you a whole lot of people wouldn’t be where they were. I sure as hell wouldn’t be” 

Arthur sighed, an exhausted sound “That’s real nice of you to say John, but I also ruined an awful lot of lives too” In Arthur’s eyes John could see the ghostly reflection of Thomas Downes, Eliza and Isaac, Eagle Flies, and so many more. 

John scoffed, throwing himself into the seat next Arthur again “Yeah well, it shouldn’t just be about accounting your sins and good deeds. It should be about the way you tried to go about life is all I’m saying”

Arthur gave him a wry grin “Dear little Johnny, trying to cheer little old me up, who’d have ever thought?” John scoffed at him, annoyed at his dismissive tone. But Arthur continued “I might not be the worst of men, but I for sure ain’t good. If I was, I’d have put a stop to Dutch and Micah far sooner” He blew out a breath “My greatest sin is always going to be loyalty I’m afraid” 

It was John’s turn to put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder “Yeah well, we can’t all be dumb as rocks, pretending we don’t see the way the winds are turning” Arthur glared up at him, making John’s face split into a grin. “It ain’t your fault Arthur. It was the way we was raised” 

Arthur’s mouth twisted ruefully at that “I suppose it was” He heaved a sigh looking at John half amused “So you gonna tell me what your life has been like, and how the others are doing?” John grinned at him, and began regaling Arthur with stories of his family. Of Charles and Sadie. Of Mary-Beth’s books, which were terribly fun to read. Of Tilly and her children and her nice husband. Of Pearson and his store. Of the letter he’d received from Trelawney from Canada, that was more complaining about the foul weather than anything. Of the Reverend making a name for himself in New York, leading parishioners, inspired by his story. 

He spoke of his interactions with people Arthur knew, that John had hardly understood at all, but who all loved Arthur all the same. Of a kind photographer who’d won awards, dedicating them to Arthur. Of a woman survivalist who honored Arthur with every kill. Of a series of letters he received from a strange french artist who thought John was Arthur. From a young couple who’d had some whirlwind Romeo and Juliet romance in Rhodes, who’d named their first son after Arthur. 

Arthur just listened, smiling softly to himself. He didn’t ask questions, just listened as John talked. It reminded him of what it had been like when he’d run the odd job for Dutch and Hosea when he was a kid and would regale everyone with details and Arthur, once he’d gotten over his irritation with John existing, would sit back, sipping his drink, smiling in amusement. Cause Arthur’d been that kid once upon a time. 

When John had nothing left to say he looked over at Arthur, waiting for what came next. Arthur just gave him a smile, standing up. Copper stood with him, wagging his tail in excitement. Arthur brushed off his clothes and adjusted his hat, though they weren’t rumpled or dirtied in the slightest. John stood too, sensing a shift in the landscape around him. 

Arthur turned and clasped John on the shoulder “It’s time for me to go now” He said gently, squeezing John shoulder. 

John felt his breath hitch in his chest “I don’t want you to though” he whispered. Arthur gave him a wan smile “Should I come with you?” John asked, unsure. 

“You got your own people to wait for Johnny boy. I’m done for now” Arthur raised his hand to grab at John’s hat, stuffing it down on his head more firmly, really making sure it was secure. “I’ll see you on the other side brother” Arthur said with a grin, leaning forward to wrap John up in a hug. 

John let a little sob escape his chest, clutching back at Arthur, never wanting to let him go, but wanting him to rest. No one in their entire lives had ever worked as hard as Arthur Morgan did for his people “I’ll miss you brother” He said softly, as he pulled away from the embrace, giving Arthur’s shoulder one last squeeze. 

Arthur stepped away to the edge of the fire light, ready to step out into the darkness before he turned around, his usual mean grin on his face “Oh and John” He drawled. John gave him a long suffering sigh “Don’t think I ain’t going to tease you mercilessly about never learning to swim, even 12 years later” Arthur tsked at him, smiling wide. John scoffed waving his hand dismissively at him. 

Arthur turned again, and as he stepped out into the darkness it suddenly shifted into a wide open grassy field, sun beaming high from the cloudless blue skies. Copper darted forward, bouncing happily through the grass, barking excitedly. From over the hill in the distance two horses came pounding towards Arthur. One a large roan mare, Boudicca, the horse he’d had before Blackwater, and Ghost, the white stallion who’d ridden with him until the end, when John had left Arthur to die for him and his family. 

Arthur stepped out into the field, wide grin in place as he went to go greet his horses. Every step he took, the grassy field behind him vanished, until John could barely make out the green speck in the distance. Just as it was about to disappear entirely Arthur turned to give him a wave and shouted “Don’t forget! I love you, you damn fool!” And then he was just gone. Leaving John, Rufus and their little campfire in the dark. 

John had a sad smile on his face as he took his seat again. “I love you too, you old bastard” He mumbled into the fire, reaching down to scritch at Rufus’ ears. “Guess you and me have a while to wait yet, huh boy?” Rufus just sighed, rolling over to show his belly. John gave a hiccuping laugh, scritching at his belly. Luckily after all these years, John had finally learned to be patient. As much as he missed them, John hoped beyond all hope he wouldn’t be seeing Jack or Abigail for a long long time yet. 


End file.
